


If It Kills Me

by 21angryfrogs



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: AU where Boyd's a Slyph, Completely canon divergent, I just love 3 boys okay, Lots of Cursing, More tags will be added!, alcohol exists yall, he... thirsty?? for drink., i edited this but i suck at editing, im bad at tags, lots of amnesty spoilers, the content no one asked for, totally inspired by thor20 go read their work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21561835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21angryfrogs/pseuds/21angryfrogs
Summary: The scene ends badly, As you might imagine. In a cavalcade of anger and fear.Or: Three men look for home, creating a country wide phenomenon along the way.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. Overture

The year is 1963. See a long empty stretch with only trees and the dirt road, both coated in snow. See a set of tire tracks headed into the surrounding woods, leading to a car slammed into a tree. The driver's side door opens and out steps a large man, in a leather jacket and jeans, cursing himself and kicking the door shut. He places a cigarette between his teeth and lights it, blowing grey clouds of smoke into the starry sky above. He looks up to watch the smoke rise. He thinks of home.

See a man dressed in flannel and furs, shoveling snow and chipping at the ice. He stops to catch his breath and turns to face the warm lodge behind him. He can see the figures of his friends, hushed in their planning. This time would be better, they hoped. He turned again to face to woods, a cool breeze blowing and shaking their leaves free of some snow. The January frost sticks well through February, he thinks, maybe this work isn’t worth the trouble. He pauses and smiles to himself. He thinks of home.

See a gate between worlds. See time pass, flowers bloom and die, leaves fall and rot, snow melt away. But the gate remains the same. See as a group of warriors prepare for battle, see as the monster emerges from the gate and falls by their hands. See as the cycle continues. The year is 1963. The moon rises, and the gate opens. A man steps out, tall, frail, a mess of hair, bones, and pale skin. He grips his belongings and turns red shaded eyes to the gate behind him. He thinks of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so basically I read thor20s fic about Boyd and i havent been able to get the idea out of my head for months. This is what came from me thinking a lot for a long time. Might never finish it but I have 3 chapters already written up so let me know if this idea is too crackhead or just crackhead enough.
> 
> *holds this fic in my hands like a baby bird* Please enjoy this fic no one asked for.


	2. Enter: The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd needs a drink, Barclay needs a break, and Indrid beefs it.

The year was 1963 and Boyd Mosche needed a drink. His ears rang and blood dripped from the side of his head. Fresh snow crunched under his feet as he made it down the road, the only sound he could hear besides his ragged breathing. The cold air made his lungs sting and eyes burn, but he clenched his teeth and marched on. He wasn't done living just yet. With his left hand, he palmed at his car keys in his pocket, before he took them out and hurled them into the woods beside him, it wasn't as if they had much use anymore. He stopped and gazed ahead, trying to make sense of the fuzzy darkness, then turned to his right. Through the trees and the drifting snow, he could see light. Boyd smiled and recharted his course.

Barclay sighed as he finished his work. With only the moon and the lodge to guide him, he walked slowly, with careful steps, to the shed behind the lodge. He fumbled with its lock for a moment before opening the door, the damp smell of dirt and metal filling his nose. He put away his tools and closed up the shed, making his way towards the lodge's front entrance. All of the lodge's residents must've been asleep by then, as he couldn't hear any more of the usual chatter that emanated between the guests. He stopped for just a moment, facing the door, to take in the sounds of the surrounding forest. It was too early for the crickets to hatch, and so the air was only filled with the sound of the wind, the trees, and the occasional call of wildlife. Just as Barclay touched the door handle, he heard a sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. A sound that broke the beauty and peace of the world around him. The long scratch of talons, the dragging of feet, and ragged, heavy breathing. Barclay froze in his place. It was too soon, he thought, we should still have time to prepare. With the image of the full moon in the back of his mind, he slowly turned. 

Indrid felt sick. Clutching his bag closer to his chest, he set on into the woods surrounding the gate. Looking toward the moon, he tried to focus. Surely he could figure something out. Where he was, where he was going, anything. But his mind flooded with visions that practically made him keel over in shock and pain. He winced and continued to walk, shivering as a colder wind began to blow.  _ Find shelter, find warmth, survive. You can't let them down. _ Another jolt of pain sent Indrid to his knees, the cold of the snow against his palms making his eyes water. _ Don't die. _ He struggled to his feet again, falling to one knee.  _ You have to prove them wrong.  _ He wanted to scream, but the cold air burned his throat.  _ You have to find her.  _ Suddenly, he lost his balance, falling to his side. When he tried to stand again, his arms refused to move. He looked up at the stars as visions cluttered his head. The voice of a woman called to him, and then everything went black. 

The man stared at Boyd like he was a ghost.

"I said," Boyd repeated, trying to steady his breath, "Are you open?"

The man seemed to somewhat snap out of his daze because he nodded and opened the door. 

"C-Come on in."

"Thank you." 

He walked into the building, stretching his arms upwards in the warmth of the fire, not far from the entrance in a common room area. The lodge was quite simple, with wooden floors and walls. He turned back around to the man with a short beard, slightly curly brown hair, and nervous green eyes. 

"Forgive me for being so rude on my entry but do you have a bar here? I've had a rough night." He pointed to the blood dripping down his head. 

The man nodded, seeming to relax slightly. "Y-Yeah. Wouldn't you know it, but I work as the bartender here."

"You don't say? Well then, aren't I lucky? Lead the way."

The man smiled nervously and walked through the left hallway into a small kitchen with an island that he was using as a makeshift bar. 

"It isn't a lot, but it works. What do you need?"

"Whiskey if you have it, on the rocks."

The man nodded and worked his way around the room, grabbing the few things he needed. Boyd watched him work, large hands shaking slightly as he poured the drink.

"You got a name?" Boyd asked. 

The man's head whipped towards him. He slowly pulled the glass he was holding closer to himself. "D-do you?"

Boyd laughed. "Well if you're gonna be like that, the name's Boyd Mosche."

The man looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Barclay." He almost smiled, holding out the finished drink. 

"A pleasure."

Barclay had spent almost a decade on Earth, and in that time he had met lots of people. Of different races, genders, sexualities, religions, you name it. He had lived for a short time on each continent before settling down in America. With hot summers and cold snowy winters, it had a variance not only among seasons but also among people. Barclay enjoyed diversity because it meant new experiences and more he could learn. With that said, he was surprised by his hesitation around the Devil man who now stood in his (the lodge's) kitchen. Devils weren't an uncommon species on Sylvain, they were said to be reptiles who had spent time soaking up Sylvain's light. And yet the sight of him made Barclay nervous. Maybe it was the blood, or the way he liked to hold eye contact, or the fact that Barclay hadn't spoken with a Devil since he was a child. Barclay handed off the drink and watched the Devil flash him another smile, all sharp teeth, before taking a surprisingly contained sip.

"So..." Barclay began, stopped in his tracks when yellow slitted eyes flicked to meet his own. He gulped. "W-what brings you so far from home?"

The Devil- Boyd- finished his sip and set down the glass with a sigh. "Is it that obvious?" He only nodded in response. "I suppose I got tired of the city. You know, lights, noise," He waved a clawed hand, "It was too much."

Barclay tilted his head. "That's an odd reason." Boyd turned, faux offense on his face, "Well I mean, it's not why I left."

"Oh? I didn’t take you for a city boy! Well then, Mr. Barclay, why did you leave?"

Barclay leaned back against the counter and sighed, "I mean, I left like most did, in search of answers. After the humans took Sylvain fr-" 

Barclay couldn't finish his sentence before he was hit in the face with a spurt of whiskey. He looked up and saw Boyd staring at him, shock written across his face. He set down his glass and wiped his mouth, walking slowly around the bar to Barclay. 

"How did you know I was a Sylph?" He muttered.

And then it clicked. Barclay set a hand on either of Boyd's shoulders and watched his expression go from surprise to fear. "Buddy," he said as calmly as possible, "I think you lost your disguise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I only half expected to be posting this chapter today but bless my beta reader for editing through this all so fast and so well, she's a saint. Also might end up messing around with this because, since I've never made a multi-chapter work before, I have no idea how formatting works.
> 
> Anyways I kinda felt bad only giving you guys what I have marked as "Chapter 0" so I decided to publish Chapter 1! Updates won't be this frequent, I don't wanna run out of chapters to update with incase I get sick or something. Next chapter will be out hopefully next week?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the real beginning! Sorry for all the words down here!


	3. Awaken: The Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay and Boyd take a walk, Indrid wakes up.

The year is 1963 and Madeline Cobb is not equipped to handle the situation that lies before her. She had watched through the trees as a man, tall and walking wearily, collapsed into the snow. She called out to him and, when no answer came, rushed towards where he had fallen. Getting a look at him now, she saw that he was truly an odd character. He was dressed in robes with Greek or Roman origin, but Madeline knew at her age they were all long dead. He wore red sunglasses, which seemed counter-productive for the time of day, but he wasn’t wearing shoes either. She kneeled by his side and placed a hand on the side of his face. He was as cold as ice. She looked back to the campfire in the yard of the cabin that her family rented, then looked back at the man. Madeline then summoned all her strength to lift him, and began to walk toward the cabin. He was much lighter than she had expected, but she was still a child carrying a grown man. She walked slowly, being careful of rocks and twigs as her father had warned her until she reached the fire. She used her feet to try and clear some snow and set the man down.

“I’m gonna be right back, alright?” She spoke reassuringly, “Don’t disappear.” 

The man didn’t respond, so she dashed inside the cabin and called for her parents. She didn’t see him begin to stir. She didn’t see his glasses slip from his face.

“Shit,” Boyd groaned, staring at his reflection, “I guess I really was lucky to find you huh?”

Barclay nodded in response, leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom Boyd ran to. He watched as Boyd ran his hands across his face before tilting his head up and groaning for the nth time in the past few minutes.

“I must’ve dropped it when I was walking here, but that’s miles of road.” Boyd turned to look at Barclay.

“Not to mention all the snow.” He said, breaking eye contact to look out a small window. “And all the cars. And the fact that your disguise might as well be a needle in the haystack of the world.”

Boyd put his head in his hands. Without his disguise, he’d have to go back or risk being hunted down by humans until he could find someone on earth who could make him a new one.

“I could lend you mine?” Barclay suggested.

“And have two of yourself running around?”

Barclay looked at the dejected Devil and sighed. “Well, the other option is me going out there and looking for it.”

Boyd’s head shot up, slitted eyes fixed now on Barclay’s own. Barclay immediately felt that same dread rise up his spine that he felt on their first encounter.

“Would you?”

“If it gets you out of my hair, yes.”

Madeline ran up the stairs to her parent’s room before she heard what sounded like a large animal noise from the backyard. She froze as she heard the crunch of snow under something massive, something pacing around. Remembering the man she’d left outside, she gulped. She walked backwards down the stairs, careful not to make a sound, and grabbed the fire poker that laid just a few feet away from her. Gripping her weapon of choice in two shaky hands, she crept toward the backyard door. She gently pushed it open and dropped her poker at what she saw.

In the yard stood an enormous creature, with two large wings sprouting from its back and fur covering its body. The creature had four arms, antenna and mandibles on either side of what she assumed was its mouth. It turned its eyes, which glowed red, toward Madeline. She tried not to scream as it slowly and curiously walked toward her. 

“You are… Madeline, yes?” It spoke, in a voice all too human.

She nodded, her heart pounding in her throat. “H-How did you know my name?”

The creature tilted its head slightly and chittered. Madeline shivered with fear.

“You brought me here.” 

It wasn’t a question. The thing walked back to the fire, retrieving the same pair of sunglasses the tall man had previously worn and slipping them over its face. In an instant, the monster became the man she had pulled from the woods. Madeline was at a loss for words, but before she knew it he was in front of her again.

“May I come inside?”

Barclay exhaled and looked at his own face beside him. Boyd had insisted on helping him search for the lost disguise, so Barclay gave him a backup in case anyone caught sight of him. While the sight of two identical men might be a shock to some, it wouldn’t be as bad as seeing a 7 foot tall part-reptile part-goat creature. They spent most of their walk in silence, the only sounds being the wind, the crunch of snow, and the occasional bird call. They followed a set of goat prints back until goat feet turned into footsteps and then began their search.

“What’d you say it was?”

“A ring. It was gold, shouldn’t be hard to miss.”

“Right,” Barclay said, already crouching down, “Should be hard to lose.”

He could practically feel the face Boyd was making at him and chuckled to himself.

They spent the next ten minutes in silence, sifting through snow and dirt. Barclay could feel his fingers start to freeze when he looked over at Boyd, who had stopped and was staring into the forest.

“Hey, what’s the hold up over there?”

Boyd turned, a frightened look on his face. “Well, the good news is that I know where I lost my ring.” 

“And the bad news?”

“The bad news is that I tossed it into the woods.”

Madeline came back into the house after putting out the campfire to find the man she had saved sitting inches from the fire inside, staring into its heart blankly. She took off her winter gear before sitting next to him, holding her hands out to the fire to warm them. He watched her carefully.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to help me, but you did.”

“No problem.” She chuckled nervously, looking up at him. “It was the right thing to do.”

They both turned back to the fire.

“I know you have questions. You may ask them, but I can’t promise to give satisfying answers.”

Madeline inhaled, brought her knees to her chest, and turned to face him. “What on earth are you?”

He laughed dryly. “Yes, that is a good question I suppose. I am not of your world, Madeline Cobb.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re an alien?”

He nodded. “I suppose your next question is where I’m from. Not from any planet you would know of, nor any planet your kind would speak about.”

“Why not?”

“They’ve forgotten about us,” He said, looking to the ceiling, “They attacked our home and left. Stories of their attack became nothing more than myths. But perhaps that's for the best. If they remembered us, history would most likely repeat.”

They sat quietly once more. A kettle whistled and Madeline stood, running over and pouring herself a cup of tea. Before she could pour a second cup, a hand touched her shoulder. 

“I need to leave, There are people are waiting for me. Save it for the fire.” He smiled.

Madeline stared at him and nodded before watching him grab his bag off their couch and make his way toward their front door. He grabbed a bracelet, braided from different strings, off the key table and opened the door.

“Wait!” Madeline called.

The man turned, silhouetted in the moonlight, red glasses shining.

“If humans can’t remember what happened, then w-”

And then the man was in front of her again. In no time at all, he had traveled across the room and crouched mere inches from her. A smile began to spread across his face, much wider than any mouth should reach. “Because, Ms. Cobb, you are going to do amazing things someday.”

Madeline held her breath as he stood up and walked back to the open door, shutting it behind him. She exhaled as he left, hoping this would all have just been a dream. The next morning, she found large footprints around the firepit. She covered them up with snow and her own footprints. She remembered what he had said and years later it would serve her well. But, of course, he already knew that it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a hot minute to release huh? I'm so sorry to anyone who thought this fic was dead, it's alive and well! I had a lot of trouble when it came to being satisfied with this chapter, but I finally managed to write it in a way that made me happy with it! The third chapter is also proving to be difficult, but hopefully not in a "two months before the next update" way!
> 
> As always, praise to my editor and beta reader, she is a true saint.
> 
> I promise I'll be posting again before March, and I hope this was worth the wait!


	4. Paths: Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A choice is made

The year was 1963 and Barclay and Boyd sat on the side of a road.

“We could get a metal detector?” Boyd suggested.

“Tell me where the hell we’re going to get a metal detector time of night?” 

“I’m not the one who offered to look for it!”

“And I’m not the one who threw it into the damn forest!” 

The two glared at each other and then looked towards the woods before them. It was pitch black and snow was coming down quicker by the minute. Even if they could find the keys he had thrown, the ring would have been launched much further and at an unknown trajectory. To summarize, they had lost all hope.

Boyd held his head lower and sighed. Travel had brought him nothing but misfortune: a wrecked car, a lost ring, and now a man who didn’t even want to be helping him. He was in a nowhere town with no money and no hope. For the first time in years, Boyd felt regret. That maybe he had made the wrong decisions, that he should’ve tried harder. That there was a way that life wouldn’t have led him here, sitting on the side of the road looking identical to the man next to him. Because, as far as Boyd was concerned, he was shit out of luck.

Barclay (the real one) stood up, snapping Boyd out of his thoughts. When Boyd looked up he was being offered a hand. “Maybe we should try again in the morning?” 

Boyd looked at him for a moment and then he smiled. Maybe there was still hope for him. He took his hand and Barclay pulled him to his feet. They walked side by side, following their footprints back from whence they came.

“Thanks for trying.” Boyd said, bumping Barclay’s shoulder with his own.

“I’m not done trying yet, we still have tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe we can find a metal detector before then.”

Barclay laughed, a loud laugh that Boyd couldn’t help but join in on.

They walked for a good while before reaching the entry point through the woods that led to the lodge. As they peered through the forest, they noticed something strange. Through the trees, they could just make out the form of a person silhouetted by the lights in the front of the lodge. They held something in their hands, glowing an orange light before going dark entirely, along with the lodge lights themselves. Barclay held a hand out in front of Boyd to stop him, before slowly walking towards the now darkened lodge. They carefully stepped over rocks and twigs, trying to limit their noise production as much as possible besides the impossibly loud crunch of snow under their shoes. Just as they were about to emerge from the forest, the lights snapped on again. Standing at the edge of the woods and the lodge was a man, a few inches shorter than Barclay (which meant a few inches shorter than both of them at the moment), wearing Sylvan court robes and red glasses that were shining with the lights around them. 

“Hello, Boyd,” He smiled, turning to him without hesitation, “I believe you’ll need this.”

The man held out a small bracelet to Boyd, a grin fixed upon his face. Boyd looked to Barclay who stood frozen in place, then reached out and took the bracelet.

“It won’t be big enough for your wrist, but it should fit nicely around your ankle. I’ve observed that ‘anklets’ are quite fashionable presently, so no need to worry there.”

Boyd leaned down, never taking his eyes off the man, and tied the bracelet around his ankle. In front of him, Barclay’s eyes widened and the pale man’s smile grew.

“Good as new, may I come inside?”

Barclay nodded, as dazed as he was when Boyd had first encountered him that night. Boyd looked at him, confused and concerned, but followed him back inside.

The man now sat on the lodge’s couch, sipping a drink that was basically warm water with honey and sugar. It would’ve been funny to a fly on the wall, two tall and fairly strong-looking men so terrified by a skinny man in a toga using a straw. But the fear seeping off them wasn’t of being overpowered, it was something taught from a young age to be expected from those around court members. The fact that they could barely read his expression didn’t help either, though his stare could be felt through the reflective glass. All the two of them could do was avert their stares into their respective glasses, hoping he would stop looking. 

Barclay glanced toward Boyd for the hundredth time since the man had appeared to take in his new appearance. He was a bit taller than Barclay now, but not by much. He had black hair that was mostly slicked back with a few stray pieces sticking up. He would occasionally run a hand through his hair, a nervous tick Barclay shared. He had a few scars on his face and all in all looked like a typical greaser, leather jacket and all. He wouldn’t have been surprised by this choice of appearance for a devil, yet the way Boyd spoke didn’t fit the look at all. Though, Barclay supposed, the way he acted did.

The man finished his sip and turned his head towards the two.

“Right.” He sighed, “Well if neither of you are going to speak I suppose I ought to introduce myself.”

The men turned to each other, quickly exchanging faces of confusion before turning back to the court member, who hadn’t acknowledged this at all.

“My name is Indrid. As you can tell,” He gestured to his robes, “I’m a member of the court of Sylvain. Specifically, I am the court seer. You two are Barclay and Boyd Mosche, both sylphs sent from Sylvain to Earth not too long ago, but long enough ago to be acquainted with the scenery. Does everything I’m saying track?”

They continued to stare at him blankly. Indrid let out a heavy sigh.

“How did you know I’d lose my disguise?”

“I’m the court seer, keep up Mosche.”

Boyd folded his arms and looked to Barclay with a look that said _‘your turn.’_

“Why come to the lodge?”

“I knew you both would be here, and I’ll need you both to help get what I need from this planet.”

“And that is?”

“Sylvain.”

Boyd had his second spit take of the night. Indrid calmly took another sip of his drink.

“Not on the carpet!”

“Hey listen I didn’t mean to!”

“Can you just not control yourself? I swear if you spit out any more alcohol I’ll start having you pay.”

“Well, that isn’t very-”

Indrid cleared his throat above their bickering and the two turned.

“Boys, unless I’m mistaken, there are people asleep here aren’t there?”

The two of them paused, listening. The wind blew hard outside and the occasional bird call broke the silence, but no sounds of awakened guests. Barclay let out a sigh of relief and then walked into the kitchen. Grabbing a small towel, he walked back in and tossed it to Boyd.

“New rule: you spit it, you clean it.”

Indrid watched quietly as the two of them finally settled down, sitting in chairs rather than awkwardly standing off to the side. The futures that filled his mind shifted with each move the men made, which would typically make Indrid worry. But he didn’t have the time to hesitate. These two would be quite a handful, but they’d also be the best help he could get.

Finally, with the two settled, the conversation was ready to begin again. Indrid could sense the impatience seeping off of Boyd, took note of this, and spoke accordingly.

“You two have a very certain outlook on humanity. Those from the eyes of someone immersed in human culture, from someone who has had to blend in. You both left soon after Sylvain went missing, so you’re more aware of human movement from those periods than any of us back at the court. You’ve seen what humans are drawn to and what they aren’t. I may be able to know that anklets aren’t completely out of style, but I couldn’t tell you what was popular ten years ago-”

“Sweaters.” Boyd said with an overacted shudder.

“And why is that important?” Barclay said, pushing past Boyd’s comment.

“How else will I find who took Sylvain?” The two looked at him like he was nuts. “Listen, I know how I sound, but I’m serious. This is the best chance I have of finding Sylvain and I’m not about to stop trying. Our planet isn’t going to be doing so well in thirty, forty years from now, and I can’t let it get to a point where families will die because I decided not to take this chance.”

“What’s the chance?” Though Boyd didn’t say it like a question.

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s the chance us doing this actually helps?”

Indrid hadn’t expected such a direct question and felt his throat clench up. He could hear the nervousness in his own voice when he spoke, “Well, I can’t give you an exact percent, or ratio, that isn’t how all this works, but it isn’t high.”

Seeing the displeased look on Boyd’s face, he continued, “I’d estimate there’s a 35% chance we find Sylvain. And I know that doesn’t sound great, but it’s less than the guaranteed 0% if we do nothing.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but we can barely find car keys.” Barclay half laughed, “Finding Sylvain herself seems kinda above the two of us, right Boyd?”

But when he turned to look at Boyd he saw that his face was fixed in contemplation. Barclay’s smile dropped as Boyd turned to him, face serious.

“Barclay I know neither of us are law-abiding citizens or saints to the government, but that's thousands of people.”

“And that’s a 35% chance, Mosche. We don’t know that this is even gonna work!”

“Barclay I don’t know if you have any family back on Sylvain, but that’s a 35% chance my parents don’t die before seeing me again.”

That gave Barclay pause. Indrid began to drink the rest of his sweet drink while he thought, slowly scanning through the futures fast shifting. A cup of black coffee, sirens, the sound of a violin. He closed his eyes behind the glasses and listened to the music as it faded and changed. When he opened his eyes again Barclay was staring at him.

“Alright.” He said, exhaustion evident in his voice, “What do you need us to do?”

Indrid grinned, “Do either of you have a car?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This chapter came out much sooner then you probably expected, but hopefully thats a good thing! I want to try and avoid the whole "going months without an update" thing, and midterms are approaching so I figured now was a good time to get this out! I hope you're still enjoying!
> 
> Now that I'm well into writing this, I can finally take the time to read TCOS. I had the idea to write this back in May, and I didn't want anything to color my original idea. That being said, (spoilers for TCOS i guess? go read it) I'm glad we as a collective have said fuck canon Boyd. (I still like canon Boyd but like, I enjoy most bastard characters)
> 
> Much love again to my editor, who is probably far too tired of my messages of "can you look at this again?" I'll see you all again within a month if all goes smoothly!


End file.
